911: Recovery
by SilyaBeeodess
Summary: The torch has passed over. The days of mankind's reign may have ended, but their legacy continues through lives of the Stitchpunks. With the Fabrication Machine gone and their growing family kept relatively safe, Nine and the others are free to explore the ruins of the city-studying the remnants of a dead age. However, unburied secrets may reveal an even worse threat ahead.
1. Chapter 1

They should've been safe so… why did he still feel so afraid?

From the moment Peter had stepped forward before the device which had taken his soul to transfer it into the ragdoll body of a Stitchpunk, the world had forever changed. Some of it was for the better: Other changes he was uncertain of. No longer were he and his siblings hunted as they had been by the existing machines that had survived the war, but being in a cloth and mechanical shell rather than one of flesh and bone constantly ate away at him. It didn't _feel_ right, even if he was still himself by the end of the day.

However, he couldn't say that he bore any regrets—or at least, not for becoming like this. He had overheard his sister, Sarah, and the Stitchpunks that had become their adopted family talking about what would happen to them. Transferring their souls had been the only thing they could do to save themselves in order to escape the machines after _his_ blunder of sneaking away from the safety of their refuge behind Sarah's back. His desire to proof himself, his getting caught outside after curfew, and her having to rescue him were what had shaped their destruction as human beings. He had been reckless, and in order to live they were human no more.

Hardly a day after they had become as they were, the machines had torn apart the city looking for them. But they had been looking for four human children, not four doll-like beings. Nevertheless, they had stayed hidden for the longest time, and only once the machines had thinned out and gone elsewhere did they risk stepping out into the ruins of the city their guardians called the 'Emptiness' once more. Granted, the occasional machine still managed to pass through, but they were easier to deal with.

Which brought him to the only other true silver-lining of their fate: Despite how he had ruined their lives, for the first time in forever, he was finally getting close to his elder sister again. When the war first began, their parents had tried to remain positive and care for them all to the best of their abilities; however, it soon became clear that he and Sarah couldn't stay children any longer. They had taken on greater responsibilities by cooking, crafting, and caring for their two little sisters—and they had done it together. Then it became clear to him that they had favored Sarah as the eldest to step in in their place, and when they left she had taken both the power and the burden of leading the four of them. She had never let him help her to find supplies and take on half of the risks: She had hardly even let him leave their shelter. They had fought and argued constantly, until he just couldn't take it.

Peter supposed that he had proven Sarah right and that he hadn't been ready for the dangers she faced, but now that they were Stitchpunks that had slowly begun to mend their broken relationship. She invited him to scout and scavenge with their. They tried playing the same games they used to play before the war. They worked and raised their two younger siblings together. He didn't know whether or not she could forgive him—and he didn't forgive himself—but it was a start at least.

And the other Stitchpunks—the first nine—truly had become a sort of family to them. He and Sarah both knew that a good few of them still held some prejudice over their having been human, but it was also clear that they cared about them. The only thing he didn't necessarily like was that most of them had taken to calling them by numbers rather than their names: He often found himself going by 'Ten,' Rosie 'Eleven,' Peggie 'Twelve,' and Sarah 'Thirteen' in accordance with who's soul was transferred before the others. It felt like rubbing salt in a still festering wound to him, but he kept quiet about it. Maybe they meant it as a way of making him and his sisters feel like they belonged…

Peter felt the back of a hand strike him at the shoulder, shocking him out of his musings as he watched Sarah jog past him. "Better hurry up!" she ordered, and he picked up the pace in turn. She was right: He could hear the mechanical whirs of a machine behind them.

As Stitchpunks, whenever they were spotted by a machine the mechanical beasts showed one of two reactions: Either they took on the nature of a predator finding a new species of game for the first time or else they held them in confused intrigue. It made sense, seeing as they had the bipedal form and nature of humans but all the same were clearly not. In the end, if they didn't dart out of view quickly, the machines would give chase. As was the case now, except that lately it had become intentional of their part.

Over the course of several weeks, he and Sarah had plotted a short route near the city limits leading to the edge of the wide chasm near the railway. They had spent days on end moving debris to create a path that gave their pursuers no choice but to follow them when they used themselves as bait—and thanks to the sheer mass of debris, it was a well-hidden one. It narrowed so subtly that a person or machine could follow it on an unconscious level, but by the time one reached the end they were trapped by the camouflaged walls.

The Scavenger that now tailed them rolled into view behind a rusted, broken-down truck when Peter looked over his shoulder. It paused for only a moment to gather their whereabouts before speeding after them yet again. Even as humans, they had no chance of outrunning one: If they didn't veer off course in seconds, it would be upon them.

Fortunately, they didn't need but a couple. As they reached the edge of the cavern, both he and Sarah veered to the right and barely a meter from its large drop—ducking behind the piles of rubble with only a length of a thick telephone wire to connect the one alongside them to the one on their left. They moved readily, taking hold of the wide, makeshift crank attached to the spool and line and wound it up as tightly as it could go from where the end was fastened to a deeply buried chunk of cement within the rubble.

The Scavenger had no time to react to the sudden obstacle. Unable to calculate for the change, it couldn't stop itself from rolling into the wire—the raised platings on its form catching upon the line and causing it to falter right over the lip of the chasm. As part of the wire was dragged down with the machine, the crank reacted by snapping in place and knocking both brother and sister back while it rapidly spun in the opposite direction. Sarah and Peter collapses to the ground from the force behind it, hearing the unearthly screes of their unnatural enemy before it was silenced by the rocks below.

After catching their breath, the pair looked over the edge to see what they had come to expect from the repeated scenario. For all of a Scavenger's defenses, it still wasn't built for combat and in no way to handle that sort of fall. Sometimes whatever remained of a damaged one would try to crawl away until the red lights of its eyes blinked out and it went still, but this was one of those times when the landing had finished it off instantly. The Scavenger lay as a cracked husk below, nearly split in half from catching on the rocks by its underbelly with the spoils of its rummaging through the Emptiness partially spilling out of it. They had yet to see one survive the fall, but even if one happened to it had no chance of crawling back out.

Sarah gave a little cheer, pushing herself from the earth and brushing the dust off of her fabric skin before heading back to the crank to rewind the excess wire and reset their trap. Peter stood by as the coil dragged along the ground, aiding it back to the flat surface whenever it tried to snag along the way. "Are we going down there?" he asked when their task was nearly complete.

One of the earliest projects they had taken on—along with Five and Two—had been creating a pulley system that lead down into the cavern. Whether they were the remaining supplies from the factory or were various bits and bobbles washed downstream, the cavern held plenty of materials and trinkets ripe for the taking. Further exploration had even revealed a few connected train compartments further along its path. They weren't actually supposed to come here alone since the way was so dangerous—and undoubtedly they would be punished for putting themselves at graver risk by luring machines if any of their adult figures ever caught wind of it—but often the Scavengers also gathered a hearty collection of finds within the ruins which they would in turn swipe from the destroyed machines.

But Sarah shook her head, motioning to the slightly bulged pocket stitched along her right leg. "We've got enough for today and it's getting late. We better get the rest of our finds and head back to the library before the others send out a search party for us."

He gave a small chuckle at that. It was nice to have somebody waiting for you when you got home—if it was alright to call the library that. It was strange to think about it that way, but at least it felt more like home than their shelter outside of the city had. Every day since the war had once gone by spent feeling trapped in a place where really all they could do was eat, sleep, and wait for something to happen on a radio that never played more than a repeated call before dying. Now they had things to look forward to when coming home, and people to care for them as their parents once had. They had made friends with Five, Six, and the twins when they had once thought they never would've had friends outside of each other again.

The toy dump truck they used for carrying the bulk of their finds was wheeled out from its hiding place within a nearby alley—pulled forward by one of them with a cord of twine as the other pushed behind it. Though they still had plenty of parts left to them by the Scientist, one of the projects Two and Five had begun to take on was following the fallen man's blueprints in attempts to build parts themselves should the day ever come when they needed them. And while they tinkered and welded, Sarah and Peter had taken it upon themselves to find possible materials. It gave purpose to their daily, little adventures—and it mostly certainly won over the schooling One attempted to pile them with…

The way back to the library may have been uneventful, but they never got tired of seeing the tiny, warm light that often awaited them when they arrived at near-dark. It was Nine, standing outside with his light staff in his hands as he waited for them to come home. The welcomed sight beckoned them to move faster and they raced with their treasures through the courtyard to the wide arch of the building's entrance.

"You two look like you had a busy day," the leader commented with a grin as they came to a stop before him.

"It's a great haul," Sarah replied, beaming proudly and patting the side of the toy truck. "This should keep us stocks on metals for a while."

Peter could only offer a nod of agreement. Though months had passed, Peter wasn't quite as comfortable talking to the other Stitchpunks as she and his other two sisters were. Peggie and Rosie loved playing with the twins, and Sarah seemed to get along well with everyone—especially Five and Six—but as for him, Two was the only one he really felt close to. It's not like he had made a good first impression with the rest of them.

"You both left pretty early this morning though. You've been gone all day." Nine leaned his staff upon a nearby pillar to pet the two children on the head as a father might. "How about staying in tomorrow? Three and Four found some new books and Two's been hoping to give all of us another check-up soon."

Two's check-ups had first been routine when the four former humans awoke in their new bodies: Having been made in a hurry, there was always a concern of one part or another failing. He didn't fret as much as he used to, but it was always good to keep tabs on everyone's health anyway, so every month or so he'd have another look at their inner workings.

The storybooks Sarah had once abandoned as useless trifles invigorated her spirit once again with what extra time she now had to read them. She didn't have to play the adult as much anymore, and was free to indulge in fiction to her heart's content. The smile that pulled at her mouth was genuine, and any plans for what might've been another adventure to the 'Emptiness' the following day were tossed aside at the idea of spending her time with the characters of a good novel. Peter, however, had no idea how he'd spend his free-time, except by maybe trying to help Two and Five with their work. He was learning how to tinker like they could anyway.

Once the toy truck was moved beneath the cover of the awning, Nine recovered his staff and gently guided the pair into the library. Home.


	2. Chapter 2

It had become something habitual, shedding the worn piece of fabric that curtained the opening of the cubby that made the former human children's room at night to check-up on them—watching the subtle rise and fall of their chests within the makeshift beds as they slept. It was a peaceful scene, and Nine always felt better knowing that they were safely tucked in in a fitful rest.

Of course they didn't really need to sleep, but he assumed it was a habit of its own left over from when they were human. They seemed in better spirits when they rested too, so there was never any issue. The twins—whether for the sake of curiosity or from actually enjoying the foreign action—had even begun to take naps. He and the others would sometimes find the pair curled up together, flopped over their most recently finished text or amid a clutter of trinkets taken from the Emptiness.

The fact alone that all of them could indulge is something so basic thrilled him. It meant that they really did feel safe here, at home here. They would always have to keep a lookout in the event that a machine ever did wander into the library, but they didn't have to run and hide from them anymore. Approaching the rag-laden candy tin that made the bed of the three girls—Peter had the bottom half of a wooden box that might've at some point contained a seafarer's whistle that made his own—Nine gazed down at the trio fondly, a soft grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. They were all bundled together, with Sarah nestled between the youngest pair as they hugged her arm and waist.

There was plenty of room. They had been made aware that they didn't have to keep together in such a small space, but Eleven and Twelve—Rosie and Peggie—were inseparable and the other two hadn't seemed to have wanted to be left alone either. The youngest girls were still the babies of the bunch. Peter was still the troublesome, but caring brother. Sarah was still the protector, only now she mostly warded off bad dreams instead of real enemies. They were steadily becoming a part of a bigger family, but they still relied heavily on one another in the meantime. Not that he minded: He knew they needed time to adjust.

Nine ran his hand over Rosie's head, evoking a soft murmur from her. They were good kids. Even if there hadn't been any way to protect them as their human selves, he was glad that he could watch over them now. He had felt, well, pretty helpless to do anything when Sarah had gone with him and Two to look for the rest of his kind after they had first met. She had ferried them everywhere and had been able to do things he couldn't ever hope to match because of her size alone. There had been a few moments where he had been able to help her, true, but it had never felt like enough. Now it was his and the others' turn to look after her and her siblings—and he wouldn't fail them. He was determined to guard the lives around him at any cost, and despite their pasts they were no exception.

"Counting heads again?" he heard a familiar voice whisper from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he found Seven standing in the entryway with a content grin of her own—illuminated by the glow of the oil lamp set some distance away outside of the cubby. She leaned her weight against the wall as she spoke, her own gaze roaming over the slumbering forms.

He nodded, answering her just as quietly, "I can't help it. It doesn't seem all that long ago when it was just you, me, and the twins." He gave the youngest girl another affectionate pat on the head. "Now we've got everyone—" he paused, then corrected with a twinge of self-accusation in his voice, " _almost_ everyone—back again and four more people to boot. I'm happy, but… it's also a little scary to think about too."

What if there ever came a day when he couldn't protect them? What if he made the same mistakes he had made when he first awoke and it cost even more lives? He already didn't forgive himself for what had happened, and if it happened again…

Seven took Thirteen's pin from where it was propped nearby and examined it in her hands. "It's such a thin blade…" she grumbled to herself, though her tone didn't contain any real essence of scolding. "That's fine for speed, but I keep telling her it won't do much damage against heavy armor. She needs to practice with a larger weapon."

That got a small chuckle out of him. Though she had her reservations at first, one of the ways Seven had been trying to bond with the newest Stitchpunks was through combat training. All of them but Rosie—who preferred reading and playing—had taken a certain knack to it, but there were a few things holding them back as well. In Peter's case, it was his own reservations with most everyone besides Two and Five, which pushed him to avoid the training sessions. Sarah was good at improvising in a pinch, as evidenced even when he had first met her, but her moves were wilder as a result. Not to mention she still favored scavenging so much that she didn't stress on training either. Twelve—Peggie—was the outlier: She hung onto everything Seven tried to teach her, but the issue remained in her size and inexperience.

"With all luck, none of them will have to rely on weapons at all," he retorted, finally stepping away from the bed to approach the warrior.

She gave him a knowing smirk before returning the pin back to its usual place, then took his hand in her own—fingers lacing with his. "I've been thinking… Maybe it's time we all go out to search the Emptiness together for a day or so. You know, bring the kids along?"

He faltered at that. If it was Five, Seven, Peter, Sarah, and himself he was more than willing to go because he knew they could handle themselves fairly well. As for the others… even One lacked the dexterity to be much use in a fight if he was completely honest. Most of them didn't even seem like they wanted to travel far from the library as it was. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Nothing good is going to come out of everyone staying penned in this place all the time," she shrugged, "And it'll be a learning experience for some of them: Six, the twins, Eleven, Twelve…" She had a point there: Those five got out the least of everyone. Six took over a room to himself to draw, Three and Four were busy drowning in every word from every book in the building, and the other two were simply content exploring the nearby surroundings. If it wasn't indoors, none of them made much of a move to go farther than the courtyard out front.

Seven gave him a look that told him she wasn't planning on taking 'no' for an answer, and since he didn't have any solid argument to motion against it, he was only able to give her a sigh of consent, "Where do you think we should go?" No matter where they went, they would have to tread carefully. It wouldn't hurt to divide everyone into groups to be safe either, that way those more experienced with the Emptiness would be able to keep watch over those that weren't.

"The factory," she said readily. Where it once had been a place of dread, all that was left of it now was in scorched ruins and the Scavengers had long since picked over it. Those machines were pretty thorough of collecting anything, but there were pieces that often left behind—somethings too large or too damaged to be salvageable. This also counted for things that were too small, and while such scraps maybe didn't seem like enough to bother with for them, they were usually perfect for the Stitchpunks. It was a long way there, but the way should've been clear.

The only trick with the factory was that it did bring back a lot of bad memories. So much fear and death had occurred there, and it was a literal graveyard for the fallen Eight—his body having been devoured by the flames. Just because Seven was willing to return there didn't mean that the others would be as agreeable no matter what it was that could be found there.

She readjusted her grip on his hand, tugging him out of the cubby as one of the girls began to stir. "I'll talk to them," she offered, as if reading his thoughts. It made him feel a litter better, but only by a slight margin.

They left to plan out everything for what little time there was until dawn. When morning did finally hit, they would need to be ready to approach everyone else with the idea.


	3. Chapter 3

"No, absolutely not!"

The finality with which the words were barked pulled every gaze toward the eldest Stitchpunk the following morning. By now, Sarah and her siblings had even grown accustomed to the conflicts Nine often fell into with One—and had learned to just ignore them as eventually the former would either win the argument or just do whatever he felt was best anyway—but the latter seemed so adamant that they couldn't possibly look elsewhere.

Sarah blinked up from the empty spool she was using as a chair to where the pair stood arguing as Two checked the mechanics of her right leg. "What's that?" she couldn't help but ask. The younger part of her told her she knew better than to intrude, but the older part of her reminded her that she was more than enough of an adult to do so, especially if whatever it was they were talking about involved her siblings and herself.

"We're planning on making a supply run where the Factory used to stand," Seven explained, "All of us, including you kids."

A moment's excitement was written on the former's expression before the full meaning of the last of the other's words settled over her. Before, she was used to coming and going as she pleased anywhere within the city limits and just beyond them, so long as she made it back to her siblings in time for curfew. Now, however, she hadn't travelled much beyond the piece of the ruined city that they were in now. As she was, it had been like exploring a whole other world, but she wanted to see more. And the Factory had been a long forbidden place before now. She wanted to go. She felt Peter would be fine tagging along; however, she worried about their younger pair of siblings, who had the least experience out of any of them to walk the rough terrain.

Rosie was hardly more than a toddler, and Peggie was only a little older than her. They were kept sheltered first by their parents, then Peter and herself, and now their Stitchpunk family. They knew what to fear, but not how to fight. In heart, body, and mind, they were little children. Were they really ready?

One snapped at Seven before the adolescent had the chance to consider her answer, " _You_ can go, but you won't be dragging _us_ with you! That place is a deathtrap!"

"I think it could be a good change of pace." With a grunt of effort, Two began to push himself up from his crouched position on the on the floor. Sarah briskly placed a hand on his back and took him by his own with her other to support him. He gave her an appreciative nod before continuing, "The Beast is gone. So is that other mechanical menace. We have nothing to fear and there should be a wealth of treasures there."

"The Beast may be gone, but there are still those rolling behemoths to worry about," One countered, folding his arms across his chest.

Nine peered at the elder carefully. No, they wouldn't want to encounter any of the Scavengers, especially with the children, but it had been sometime since the machines had gone anywhere that far side of the city. It would be a long trip, but they weren't likely to encounter any trouble. He felt that One's main reluctance to go rested more so on the loss of Eight. By all means, it was his final resting place. The Factory didn't bring anyone any fond memories, but all the same it was smart to explore it.

Turning his head toward the opposite side of their clustered forms, Nine looked to where Peter and Five were sorting through a miscellaneous pile of scrap. Almost everyone had stopped what they were doing once the argument began to evolve, but the former kept his head down and continued to work. He knew for a fact that the boy would be as excited to go as his older sister, but he was likely keeping quiet for the sake of his own lost pride. What happened to his remaining family had been a harsh wake-up call to how little experience he had and how much the odds were stacked against them: He had kept himself reserved since. However, if he went, then all of them would need to go. Even if he wanted to, One didn't have the strength to protect the remaining kids.

"Ten, are you coming?" Nine addressed him as such pointedly. Even if it wasn't his name, he found that calling the former humans by their numbers gave them a sense of identity that divided them from their former lives. It pushed them to include themselves. "We'll be heading out as soon as possible."

At that, Sarah hurriedly tied the wire binding at the end of her leg and ran off, likely to grab whatever she intended to bring along for the trip. Finding lost riches might as well have been her calling. Whatever reservations she had, her decision was made the instant she thought she might be left behind.

Peter knew this too. Despite how often they argued when Nine and the others first met them, he leaned on his sister's strength. On her ability to take action in a moment's notice and adjust to their still all-too-new circumstances. If Two stayed behind, that would be a slightly different matter, but he clearly favored going as well. Five was the only other Stitchpunk among them that he felt comfortable around and he was too mild-mannered to truly offer the young boy a sense of companionship. One's sole company was out of the question.

"I-I'll go," he stammered. He hastily stood, brushing the dust that had collected on his legs and following after her.

Seven watched them leave with a faint smirk tugging at the line of her mouth, "Well, that's five votes to one." She shifted her weight toward the spear fastened in her hand. "If they think there's any new books they can find, Three and Four are bound to come along."

Hearing their names, the twins peered up from their exploratory search through a nearly bookshelf. Her eyes drifted across the distance to where the youngest of them sat with Six amid a mass of papers and ink. Of course, the last thing anyone else would want was to be left alone with One. There was too much of a bad past between him and those who suffered living with him at the church and he only ever sourly made an effort to connect with the former humans. The people who could tolerate him most to act as any voice of reason were the ones who already decided to leave. And none of the ones remaining besides Five had any true skill defending themselves. Even then, a meek skill with a makeshift crossbow wasn't much in the way of protection if anything did happen.

"I…" Six began to wring his hands around his key anxiously, his voice only dropping into a low murmur the longer he spoke, "I-I'd like new pen tips. And ink…" So often locked away within his own mind and further kept isolated at the cathedral, he hadn't had much in the way of companions before. He was still the same, but the children had helped open him up a little in that regard. Not only did they expose him to new materials for his art, his diction was steadily growing beyond cut words and short sentences.

The young girls said nothing, but of course they would go. They had lately shown an active want to participate in their small group as their older siblings and Seven did. They practically idolized them. Only two were left. Biting his lower lip, Five cast a knowing glance in One's direction.

One stubbornly grimaced, but had no choice but to comply. "Fine," he barked, shifting in place, "Just fine…"

With that, as though on cue, everyone spurred into action. Five moved away from the scrap to help Seven and One prepare their makeshift wagons for the trip. The younger Stitchpunks scrambled off into different directions to prepare in their own ways. Soon enough, only One and Nine remained—the latter kept in place by the elder's intense stare.

"I've trusted you enough to lead this much," One demanded, his mouth curling as if he hated himself for confessing that much, "but what do you intend to do with them? What good to you think will come from this? They're children, Nine, and Six and the twins aren't much different. Even you've been exposed to the ruins of this world more than they have. Six and the twins in the very least have some purpose, but human children…" he shakes his head, "I remember them from the early days of the war. Watching them… They carry themselves with an oblivious air. They have to be molded into something more than they are. Carefully so."

"What do you think Seven and I are trying to do?" he countered with a raised brow, "And it's not just them. Since there are machines still out there, the most important thing for any of us to learn right now is how to survive them. Besides just hiding."

One's glare sharpened, "It's more than that." Raising his gaze upward, he motioned to the space around them. "Do you see this place, Nine? These books? I may despise mankind and what they've done to their world—they created their own demise—but I can hold some respect for what's left of them. The words in these books, they're the last things any of us will ever hear from their species. The art? The architecture? The last of their creations. It was a miracle alone that those children survived as they did, and now they're here, like us. Should they die, should we die, all that mankind left behind dies with us.

"I refuse to admire them," he moved away, picking up a text with a gruff groan and shoving it within the nearest empty place on a shelf, "but it's an undeniable fact that they were the rulers of their world before the machines. They made discoveries and built themselves upon them." With that, he cast a glance over his shoulder back to Nine, "It's not as though they'll absorb information as the twins do. You can teach them the basis of survival as much as you please, but you'll only mold them into brutes without true intellect."


	4. Chapter 4

_No trouble so far…_

Nine walked with a stiff gait as their company moved through the Emptiness. He had been nervous about the trip ever since Seven had recommended it, and then the 'talk' he had shared with One before they left hadn't helped anything. Now that they were actually out here—all of them—all of his senses were on high alert for any sign of danger. The thought of something going wrong, as it always seemed to whenever he let his guard down, kept him going at a slow, careful pace with his eyes flickering across the ruins that surrounded them. His trepidation kept him toward the back of the group, where he could keep an eye on everyone: Seven—who, shaking her head, cast him a knowing, amused grin over her shoulder—led the front.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. They were moving in broad daylight and there wasn't a machine anywhere across the expanse of wasteland that stretched ahead of them. Still, he preferred being paranoid to being unprepared. His staff strapped to his back, Nine clasped tightly to a makeshift glaive: A new weapon that Five had made for him by welding together a steel rod and the blade from a pencil sharpener. Without practice, it felt clumsy in his grip. He could count on his fingers the number of times he had actually held it. At a time like this though, he preferred having it to his staff alone, which was suited better as just a light than for actual combat.

As the only one skilled with long-range attacks, Five also traveled toward the back of the group. Initially behind their second substituted 'wagon' which was pulled by the twins—an empty coal car from a train set—he slowed down, letting One, Eleven and Two pass him in order to walk alongside Nine. He gave him a partial grin, "It looks like the weather's let up today. That could be a good sign."

"Maybe," was all Nine could offer in reply, raising his shoulders in a faint shrug.

A moment after, the group had to stop. They had already reached the mine field that stretched beyond the ruins of the factory. They could navigate under or around some of the tripwires easily enough, but sometimes they had to take a different path because of the wagons. This time, they had to slip the wagons underneath a wire by guiding them over a small drop. Six, Ten, and Thirteen were the first to maneuver through.

"What do you think we'll find?" Five asked. His tone wasn't wholly sincere: He was asking just for sake of conversation.

"I'm not sure," he answered, "Really, there's a lot more things I'm hoping we _don't_ find than things that we could." Besides the danger of the machines, there were some sights he wanted to avoid exposing the kids to as much as he could. The twins and Thirteen had likely seen more than there share, and he wasn't worried too much about Ten: It was the pair of younger girls that worried him most. Through it all, they still somehow managed to maintain a shred of innocence that he didn't want to tarnish beyond salvation—and there were plenty of threats and grim sights that could change that.

"Well, I'm hoping to find a few more bolts," Five sighed, "It's not like we could strip away all of the piping, but we need to figure out how to channel all the water in the library's main floor somewhere else. I'm starting to worry it could flood."

It already had—twice, actually—if only by a few millimeters above ground and near the open drainage system. It wasn't much, but it was enough to spook the twins to the point that almost everyone spent several days moving the books on the lowest shelves somewhere safer to avoid the risk of them getting soaked. Of course, to them, the books were secondary only to life itself: It wasn't too far-fetched to make that claim about any of the others either though. More than supplying a wealth of knowledge, booksserved as a treasured leisure to aid the otherwise bleak, taxing hours spent on chores and survival otherwise. There was also damage to the library's infrastructure to consider. It wasn't really a problem yet, but the rains continued to fall more frequently. They had to find a way to control the water flow before it became a real problem.

Nine glanced over his shoulder for not the first time during their journey. It would be dark well before they made it back to the library. _Maybe I should talk to Seven about stopping somewhere for the night_ , he wondered. Outside of whatever dangers might come for them under the cover the darkness, the children lacked experience traversing it. Everything could look different from night to day and they were still rediscovering the world at their new sizes. They could see clearer in the dark than they could in their human bodies, but everything was strange to them. He didn't want to risk pushing them so early on. On one hand, the small challenge could he another step to helping them adjust: On the other, he still didn't know what limits their limits were.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Five asked, the curious phrase snapping him out of his musings.

"What?"

"It's uh…" the latter scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "It's something Thirteen said once, when she wanted to know what I was thinking about. Two says it's an 'idiom,' but I don't really get it either…"

Blinking his optics, Nine looked down at the weapon in his hands. As he fought to say anything, the group soon began to move again down another long strip of earth. "It's just…" he grunted, ducking low to the ground as they crawled under a tripwire. "I can't stop worrying, you know? I already let so many terrible things happen that I can't help wondering what's next. It was enough when…" he paused, then continued in a low voice, "Well… before. And now we're trying to figure out how to raise a group of humans to be like us. And I just don't know if I'm really making the right choices for everyone."

"You're doing a better job than One did," Five snorted, then gave a concerned glance ahead to check if anyone overheard him. Catching no one's attention, a few seconds later, the inventor reassured him further, "I know it probably seems like you just keep getting thrown headfirst into things. I felt like that from the minute I woke up—and the Scientist was still around then. I mean… you woke up alone, so for everything you've had to get used to, one thing right after another, I'd say you're doing pretty good." His grin returning, he nodded toward the front of their party, "This is just another one of those headfirst things—and, hey, you don't have to deal with it alone this time. You know?"

Nine gave him an appreciative smile back. That's right. From newborn to leader in a few days' pace, to the discovery of humans to their sudden adoption in hardly any more time than that, his life seemed to move in a series of rapid events—where split discussions were the only ones that mattered—followed by brief reliefs during which he was left feeling just as lost as when he started. He didn't have to learn and make decisions by himself this time though: All of them were slowly working things out together.

Seven called him from the front. Picking up pace, Nine jogged ahead with Five following not far behind.

It would've taken them a little less time had they cut through one of the many the underground pipes that led to the Factory, but they didn't know what sort of shape they were in after the explosion. That was one of their goals for the trip in case they planned on returning for future explorations. That day, however, they had cut entirely across land. Now, as they crested over a mound that had once made a sniper's hideout during the war, they could see where the Factory had once stood from a somewhat elevated position:

It was impossible to call it a Factory anymore: Not a single wall was left standing in the valley of shrapnel that remained in its stead. Heaps upon heaps of metal that not even the Scavengers had managed to pick clean stretched across the landscape. The one area that stood out from the wreckage was the carved path where the Fabrication Machine had dragged itself free from its constraints like a mechanized nightmare to chase after the Stitchpunks—a memory that flashed through Nine's mind all too clearly. As grim a reminder as it was though, it seemed to be the only sort of trail they had to follow in the midst of the destruction: To the Stitchpunks, the collapsed beams, walls, sheets, and conveyers all overlapping one another amid the already chaotic scene had turned the area into one, huge multi-level labyrinth.

Nine inwardly cringed just from looking at it. There was no hope of investigating it all in a day's time and he blanked at the thought of where to begin. Shooting a glance over to the others, he found them in no better a state. Some of them looked down at the Factory's remains with jaw-smacked astonishment, some in horror of the things that had passed, some with pained confliction, and most everyone a mix of any of the three.

One was the first to break the silence, drawing an arm to his chest in repulsion and tightening the line of his mouth. "Good riddance," he chuffed, "That's one landmark the world should be happy to have cleaved off the face of the earth." Despite his words, however, there was something in his expression that was hard to read, as if for all the hatred he held for the place dancing like a fire in his eyes, there was something more he kept withdrawn. Nine knew why: The place made a poor memorial.

Before another heavy silence could follow, he steeled his resolve, stepped ahead of the group, and turned to face them. "Here's where we split up," he told them, his fists curling at his sides just at the thought. "Seven will take the first group around the perimeter to see how the tunnels held up. Five: you, the twins, Two, and Six will go with her. Everyone else comes with me to see what we can salvage."

When he and Seven were planning for the journey there the previous night, they had already considered having to divide their numbers. It wasn't left to debate that the two of them would take the lead, each of them more fit for combat than the others. He knew that Seven would want to keep the twins within her sight, that Two could best examine the damages, that Six could likely map the way easiest, and that he could trust Five to help defend them. It was dumb fate that placed him with One as the only born Stitchpunk in his own group, but after their brief conversation before they had left, he was almost happy about it. It gave him a chance to see firsthand how One thought about handling the former-humans. Sarah and Peter could also be relied upon in a pinch, so that made their defenses fairly even from the other group.

"I wanna stay with Seven!" Peggie suddenly exclaimed, then bit her lower lip at her own outburst with a flickering, embarrassed gaze to those around her.

It caught several of them off-guard. Although it was plain to anyone that the young girl had taken a shine to the warrior, she hardly left her little sister's side: The pair stayed almost as closely by each other as the twin's did. Nine shot Seven a questioning look, but after a moment getting over her own surprise, she raised brow in return. Leaning on her spear with a hand on her hip, she smirked and gave him a limp wave of her wrist. _It's your call_ , she seemed to say.

"I…" he blinked, unsure at first, "I guess that's fine. Ok then!" The more he actually thought about it, the better it was. If they were willing to separate, then it meant they were getting more comfortable around the others as individuals. Unfortunately, however, the feeling didn't appear to be shared by everyone. The youngest of them stared at her feet with a slight, panicked look until her oldest sister stepped over to brace her at the shoulders—the latter hardly any more thrilled, but able to hide her concern a little easier.

"I-I'll stay with Thirteen t-then…" Six offered in his usual, staggering voice, a moment's excitement quickly overcome by a wave of nerves against his own boldness. It prompted a smile from the adolescent against her own reservations.

"Good!" Nine nodded, echoing the word under his breath as if to convince himself. For strategy's sake, it wasn't much of a change: The twins could catalogue the tunnels just as well as—or likely even better than—Six could map them. He just hoped the separation wasn't too much of a big step for the young girls. Against further comment, he kept silent for a brief moment before continuing, "We'll divide off that way and try to regroup before sundown. If we can't all make it back, we'll signal each other. Two?"

Once called, the elder lifted up a newly crafted version of his former headlamp, made from an altered signet ring with its gem removed and instead outfitted with a small bulb similarly to Nine's lightstaff. He had plated it around its circumference to adjust it to the size of his and wire it to a small battery pack; and he was able to turn it on and off by screwing and unscrewing a cap located on the right side. Two made it flicker twice, just to prove it worked, and then returned it to his pack.

Nine nodded again, this time in affirmation, "Then I guess we're ready to set go then. We'll see each other soon."

Seven and the others took the smallest of the two wagons with them . Twelve had a skip in her step as she followed after them, so close that she was practically on the warrior's heels. Whatever the rest of her siblings may have felt, she—for the time being in the very least—was eager to spend the day elsewhere. Nine watched on as the remaining three siblings stared after their sister in hesitation. Finally, it was Sarah who, shaking her head, grabbed their own group's wagon and beckoned for the others to follow. "Rosie, Six, hop in!" she said as Ten can over to help her push.

Nine barely had time to piece together their mischief, and when he did he was too late. With Ten and Thirteen pivoting the toy truck's momentum, the four youths began to ride down the slope to the ruins below. He tried to stop them, but they were already moving and gaining speed by the time he neared the edge: He could only watch as they rolled down, the seconds it took for them to begin to slow from flat ground and friction a strain on his nerves.

They made it safely, a light chorus of cheers climbing back up from where they now waited for him and One to follow after them. The young leader looked to his predecessor only to be met with a stern, if somewhat amused, leer as though he were talking a wicked, smug enjoyment out of the situation. The latter said nothing at first, but stepped forward, clapping him on the shoulder. Aged, tired optics fell on him, then the others, then back again.

"Don't look at me to take charge when they begin to call for you, Nine: _You're_ their leader. Good luck."


End file.
